I Am Here For You
by Handere
Summary: What if the General didn't run away?


"So, you may as well put down your guns because they will not work against his...VOODOO POWER!" Kevin has never tried to lie in his life since the donut incident fourteen years ago, so he was a bit out of practice. That, and staring down the barrel of a pistol being held by a psychotic warlord might make him a bit shaken. But he'd be damned for an eternal hell dream if he let his mission companion, his best friend, die by the General's hand this day. Especially, this day. Never in the time spent in Uganda has Kevin ever thought he'd ever get nose to nose with the General again, especially not since he stupidly pranced into his camp...and everything afterward. He never thought he'd be threatening him with the most pathetic attempt at improv either. As he scrambled his mind for more movie references, his stoic facade hadn't faltered. Neither had his companion's.

And neither had the General.

"And if you don't leave this village right now, he will call upon the Angel Moroni...from the Death Star to unleash the Kraken, which will...wh-!" he froze. Kevin felt his heart fall from its place as the General had quickly shifted his gun's direction. He smirked maliciously as if sensing Kevin's twinge of fear and squeezed the trigger.

A deafening shot rang in the air which was then followed by a strong thud. The villagers fell silent, except for collected gasps, as their prophet crashed onto the dusty earth. After a brief moment, Arnold came to with a pained and dazed moan as he felt something crushing his chest. He opened his eyes only to be blinded by the sun's rays behind the glass lenses as if doing him a kindness preventing him from seeing what was weighing him down. Arnold's need to breathe was stronger, however, as he absentmindedly shoved the thing off his chest and sat up, rubbing the back of his head. It was the metallic scent of blood and the strange absence of his mission brother that made him realize what that thing was. He whipped his head to find his mission brother, his best friend, Kevin Price lying with his face down on the dusty soil. The back of his usually crisp-clean white shirt, now coated with a sickly patch of crimson. Arnold didn't move an inch, not even to blink or breathe. All his body would allow him to do was sit on his knees and stare at his friend's motionless body. The General chuckled above him, Arnold didn't even flinch.

"What's the matter? Can't heal him? Your "voodoo powers" aren't working today?" He asked in mock concern, earning a chuckle from his comrades. The General looked at the stunned and frightened villagers and cleared his throat. "For those of you gullible dumbasses who do not understand, allow me to clarify; Your "prophet" is bullshit! If he really had risen once, I see no reason that he wouldn't have done it again if I had shot him, and his foolish companion just proved that!" Chills ran up Arnold's spine as the warlord gestured to Kevin. The General sighed as paced toward Arnold. "Really. How much blood needs to be spilled in this village before you fucking idiots get the idea? There is no prophet. There is no savior. The only one who can save you is me. Of course, we can move past all this and pretend this never happened, if you just follow my rules, circumcise your women, and never oppose me again, then maybe I can find it in my heart to forgive you. Everything could go back to the way it was before these white boys came along. And I think the best way to start is by sending this one back to Hell."

If Arnold had any control over his stiff body, he would flinch as the General's pistol was perfectly aligned with his head. Not that he cared anyway. He had this coming, after all. This was his punishment for lying to the villagers and letting Kevin die for nothing. Heavenly Father wasn't going to grant him the capability to run off or defend himself. He deserved this. His breathing suddenly eased as he huffed in defeat. He took one last glance at Kevin's body and used what little regained control he had to squeeze Kevin's lifeless hand so tight he could feel his finger's pulse against Kevin's wrist. He wished he could speak. He wished he could tell Kevin how sorry he was for letting him down, for having to be stuck with him, for abandoning him. What would Kevin even say in response?

'This is all your fault'.

Yeah, that's it.

Arnold opened his eyes when he sensed a shadow cast over him and glanced up to see Nabalungi standing boldly between him and the General, who scoffed amusingly. "Ah. Another volunteer?" his smirk slowly dropped when Mafala joined her side, then Motumbo, then Gotswana, soon the whole village was standing firmly united against him to protect their prophet. Arnold gazed in awed disbelief as the General's men began to flee, then the General after he gruffly swore this wasn't the end.

The villagers' small moment of rejoicing, smiling at each other, was quickly interrupted when they returned their attention to Kevin, Arnold now turned him over on his back. He propped Kevin on his knees and arched his arm under Kevin's limp head. He tried to swallow a lump in his throat as Kevin still hadn't stirred.

Arnold gently nudged his shoulder. "E-Elder Price...? Buddy?" His finger traveled to Kevin's neck. Faint, but there. Arnold turned to the villagers. "Gotswana! I need you!" The village was silent. Arnold turned to see if anyone caught what he said but was met with melancholic expressions, some barely looking above their own feet. Arnold's eyebrows drew together. "Well?! Why are you all just standing there?!"

Finally, Gotswana decided to speak up, sighing in defeat. "You see, Elder Cunningham, there isn't much I can do for him."

Arnold felt his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. His eyes stung again. "What do you mean 'nothing'? You're a doctor! So, do something!" He clenched his fists around Kevin's sleeve.

Gotswana winced, his mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. Mafala decided to speak for his friend. "Elder Cunningham, we...we've all seen this happen before. You think this is the first time the General has shot someone in this village?"

"But...but he has a pulse! You just have to take him to the hospital, remove the bullet, give him a few stitches, and he'll be okay!" Arnold spoke with slight confidence and desperation, remembering he's taking reference from movies and TV shows. Even so, he was not about to give up on Kevin. "You gotta have a first-aid kit in your hut, right?!"

"The hospital is just as far as the police station, he wouldn't make it in his condition even if we tried," Gotswana explained. "And a wound like that would take more than a few stitches. We're looking at internal bleeding, possible vital damage-"

"WELL, YOU HAVE TO DO SOMETHING!" Arnold shrieked, his voice ringing for miles. "We can't... just let him die! He...!" His voice began to quiver. "He's my best friend. I just got him back. I can't lose him again. I need him." Part of Arnold hated himself for saying that. Lying to himself as if Kevin was always on his mind after he left, or when Arnold made up everything he knew or didn't know about the Book of Mormon, became a prophet, and did it all on his own without Kevin's help. He was even proud of it. And despite all of that, in the end, Kevin protected him. Arnold was the reason why Kevin was in his arms with a bullet in his back. Kevin was going to die, because of him.

He doesn't deserve to die, but Arnold deserved to watch.

"What's going on over here?" spoke a distant, but familiar voice, followed by other voices. Arnold, as well as the villagers, turned to face the other missionaries as they entered the scene.

"We heard a gunshot and someone shouting!"

"Is everyone okay?! Is someone hurt?!"

"Who is-" Elder McKinley peeked through Mafala and Motumbo, gently pushing them aside, the other Elders eventually finding their way around the crowd, to see Arnold facing away from them. "Oh my gosh...!" McKinley gasped with a hand to his gaped mouth as he caught a glimpse of familiar brunette hair.

"Is that...Elder Price?!" cried Elder Davis.

"What happened?!"

"Is he dead?!" shrieked Elder Thomas.

"Elders, please! Calm down!" Elder McKinley shouted, his voice shaking a bit, but still trying to hold a strong, leader-like composure. "Mafala, what happened?"

Before Mafala had the chance to speak, Gotswana cut him off. "I already explained this to Elder Cunningham. I can't fix a wound like that here." As the village doctor spoke, Arnold clenched Kevin closer to his chest as if trying to bind his friend's soul to his body, his eyes squeezed shut. McKinley noticed his shoulders were shaking.

"He still has a pulse..!" Arnold spat back in a harsh whisper.

McKinley stared solemnly at the two missionaries for the longest time. Having been in Uganda longer, he knew more than them of the severe lack of proper medical care in the village. And there was always one Heavenly Father for them to blame. Why would this be any different?

Then it hit him.

"Well, shouldn't we, at least, try?"

The other Elders, as well as the villagers, turned their gaze to the ginger.

"I've already-"

"I know, sir" McKinley interrupted, adding the formality at the end to sound less rude, "but, who said you'd do it alone? Have you all forgotten? You're no longer a village of people trying to survive another day. You're all Latter Day Saints, brothers and sisters of Christ! So, why shouldn't we try to help a fellow brother?"

The Elders and villagers all looked at one another, doubtful murmuring in unison. "Elder McKinley is right!" Nabulungi stood before the crowd, "We scared off the General because we are stronger together, like the Hobbits and the Bothans!"

"That's right!" Mafala joined his daughter's side, "Elder Price is our brother, and we should try to help him the best we can, together!"

The collected murmurs had now shifted into agreements and hopeful, except Gotswana.

"What about equipment? I need something to remove the bullet."

"I have tweezers in my bag," McKinley suggested. Eyebrows don't pluck themselves, after all.

"And bandages?"

"We can use our shirts and blankets!" Elder Thomas raised his hand.

"Stitching?"

"I have needle and thread!" The Elders turned their heads to Elder Neeley, who sheepishly blushed, "What? I like embroidery."

As more and more Elders and villagers offered ways to help, Arnold looked back with dried streaks down his cheeks in a hopeful gaze. He stared in silence, along with the rest, waiting for Gotswana's response.

"Get him to my hut."


End file.
